


Finding Solace

by Sassydoilies



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Confident Cullen Rutherford, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Drinking to Forget, Drunkenness, F/M, Kissing, Rebound Sex, Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassydoilies/pseuds/Sassydoilies
Summary: After a rough breakup, Aravae Lavellan finds solace (geddit?) with the Commander.





	Finding Solace

Aravae sat very straight and stiff in the throne at Skyhold, hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair.  She was mindfully still, though she wanted to clench the gilded flames, wanted to cover her face and cry, or do anything except judge the red templar standing before her.  Samson had been a matter of concern for them, Corypheus’s most trusted lieutenant, beaten and chained before her now.

 

She could barely listen to his spouted, zealous justifications – she wouldn’t have had much patience with them normally, but with her heart in shattered pieces, her tolerance was even lower.  So instead of excusing herself, she directed the anger, perhaps unfairly, to the man in front of her.

 

“. . . the same pap the Chantry would –“

 

“Quiet.”  Her voice was loud enough to cut through his steady preaching.  “I have heard what you have to say, Samson.  And it is nothing but rationalizations and excuses to cover your wrongdoing.”  Aravae knew her tone was growing harsh and heated, and didn’t care.  “I do not care for your reasons, you have caused grievous harm, knowingly, to people who trusted you, who respected you, and to strangers.”

 

Josephine was looking at her, eyes a bit wide, the quill she carried poised over the parchment by rote rather than a readiness for notes.

 

“Were your knowledge not valuable, I would gladly take your head here and now,” she hissed, and was aware of the guards now eyeing her with worry.  “But instead, you will serve the Inquisition.”  The burning in cheeks told her she was flushed, but she didn’t sit back.  “Your treachery will be turned towards your former master.”  Her left hand gestured dismissively.  “Commander Cullen will question you.  Get him out of my sight.”

 

Leaning back, Aravae looked at Josephine, trying not to take it personally when the Antivan diplomat flinched slightly.  “Are there any others awaiting the Inquisitor’s judgement, Lady Montilyet?”

 

“No, your worship.”  Josephine made a note on the parchment on her board and nodded.  “The rest of your afternoon is free.”

 

Aravae frowned slightly.  “I thought we were meeting with the Duke of . . . somewhere.”

 

“Rescheduled.”  A small smile played over the elaborately dressed woman’s lips.  “Enjoy the rest of your day, Inquisitor.”

 

Casting a sidelong glance at her, Aravae nodded.  “Very well, then.”  She stood up from the throne, grateful to shed the weight that came with sitting there.  “Our court is adjourned.”

 

 

She found herself wandering alone outside, relishing the bite of the cold air on her face and hands.  There was a level of anonymity that had returned to her, without her vallaslin, that she hadn’t thought she would ever find again.  It also came with a face of pink, stinging skin until it had had time to heal, which she assumed would take about as long as it would for people to recognize her without the markings.

 

The irritation on her face was small, a minor soreness next to the ache in her chest.  The sting of losing what her people would consider a mark of who she was seemed small against the shattered pain of a broken heart.  It had been several weeks already, but the wound still felt fresh.

 

Aravae realized she’d made it to the battlements, standing in the cold mountain air and looking over the valley below without appreciating the stark beauty of the mountains as she normally did.  She sighed and leaned against the stone, looking out and taking it in for a moment.

 

She heard a door open, and looked around.  At first, she didn’t see anything, but after a moment, she saw a slender figure heading from Cullen’s office back towards the keep.  Her face burned, and she looked away quickly.  What had Solas been doing, talking with Cullen?  The only person with less in common with the bald elf was . . . well, Blackwall, really, but she’d heard the chatter about how ill-matched she and Solas were.

 

But that was before.  It didn’t matter now.

 

One of her hands clenched on the stone, and she pushed herself upright.  This wouldn’t do.  She was hurting, yes, but this moping and being tragic wasn’t her style.  Head held high, Aravae turned around and headed for the tavern.

 

Even later, she wouldn’t be able to say how Iron Bull had known what had happened without her saying a word.  Maybe he just had a sense when someone was vulnerable from years as a spy, maybe it was from years of working with a group of people.  Either way, Aravae hadn’t made it halfway across the bar before he met her, a bottle of liquor in one hand and two mugs in the other.

 

After a few drinks, her face flushed and feeling more relaxed than she had in days, Aravae told him about what happened.  How he’d said he wouldn’t distract her anymore, that they could never be together.  After telling her what the vallaslin really had been, that every one of her people believed a lie.  After she’d agreed to let him take away the last tie that held her to her people.

 

“I was a fool,” she muttered, chin in her hands.  She looked into the depths of her mug.  “It’s all a lie, you know.  Not the thing about the tattoos, the rest of it.”

 

Iron Bull leaned back in his chair.  “Oh?”

 

She drained the mug and nodded.  “Mmmm.  If he really cared, we could have found a way.”  A deep breath in, and she set the mug down with a thump.  “So.  I’ve decided to enjoy mysh- myself, and damn him.”

 

“Don’t drink much normally, huh, boss?”  He poured her another drink, only half-full this time.

 

“Not really, but doesh . . . does it matter?” words were being complicated, and she had to focus on them more than normal.  She didn’t notice Cullen approaching until he sat down next to Iron Bull.  “Commander?  Is shom – something wrong?”

 

He gave her a smile, and she noticed – not for the first time – how the expression changed his face.  “Not at all.  I had some free time, and someone mentioned they’d seen you here.  I thought I might join you.”

 

The Qunari quirked an eyebrow.  “Wouldn’t have expected it from you, Cullen.”

 

The smile turned a bit hard.  “Protecting the Inquisitor from making a potentially bad decision?  Entirely within my job description.”

 

Aravae made an irritated noise and stood up, staggering slightly.  “Gentlemen, I’ll be back.  Please decide what I will or won’t be doing before I get back, all right?  I’ll need to know which of you to tell to piss off.”

 

When she came back, both of them were still there, and she set down the plate of bread and cheese the bartender had made her take before sliding into her own seat again.  “So.  What did we decide?”

 

Bull grinned.  “Him.  He made some good points.”  Downing the rest of his drink, the mercenary stood up and snagged another mug from a passing serving girl.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

 

As Cullen poured himself a drink, Aravae studied him.  “So you’re my chaperone for the evening?”

 

“Something like that.”  He took a pull of the liquor and made a face.  She giggled, and covered her mouth.  “Don’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your smile is lovely, don’t hide it.”

 

There didn’t seem to be a response to that, and Aravae fiddled with her drink instead of speaking.  That comment, so smooth and confident, made her feel as though the drink was even stronger.  Every time she’d tried to flirt with Cullen previously, he’d been all stammers and blushes.  What had changed?  Or was it just that she was drunk enough that it seemed confident?

 

Eventually, she cleared her throat.  “So, Commander,” she said, trying to focus her thoughts.  The way he was looking at her, she couldn’t think right.  “What were you and Solas,” the name almost caught in her throat, but she managed to not let her emotions show, “talking about earlier?  I saw him coming from your office on my way here.  I just couldn’t imagine what you both might have outside of official channels.”

 

“Besides you?”  He grabbed a piece of bread from the plate she’d brought.  “Not a great deal, but he had information I found worthwhile.”

 

“Me?” her face paled.  “What do you mean?”

 

Cullen smiled, and it made her knees weak, even though his words were perfectly professional.  “You’re the glue that holds all of us together, Inquisitor.”  Aravae noticed distractedly that he wasn’t wearing gloves, and thought that she couldn’t recall a time when she’d seen him in less than full armor.  Once she noticed, however, her eyes kept straying there, watching the movement of his fingers, the curves of his palms.

 

She reached for the mostly-empty bottle to refill her mug, and froze physically and mentally when his hand closed around her wrist.  “Cullen?”

 

“You’ve had enough.”

 

The firm tone made her blink.  “I’m sorry?”

 

He reached in with his other hand and plucked the bottle from her grip.  “If you drink more right now, you’ll be ashamed of yourself for getting that drunk in front of everyone.”

 

“I don’t care,” she said bitterly.  “Why can’t I be a person for once instead of a symbol?”

 

He was quiet for a moment, then sighed.  “You can, of course, but not in front of these people.  ‘The Inquisitor had a drink in the tavern’ is different from ‘the Inquisitor got drunk and vomited on herself’.”

 

She really wanted to argue, but he was right.  And the warmth of his skin against hers was making her feel better than the drink had anyway, and more light-headed.  That stubborn streak came out one last time, though, just so he didn’t think she was doing what she was told.  “Then I’ll go drink more in private,” she said rebelliously.

 

Cullen looked at her steadily, and she looked back, knowing she was being foolish.  But she wouldn’t back down, no matter how firmly his gaze pressed against her.  “Fine.”  He stood up and tucked the bottle inside of his coat.  “Come on, then.”

 

Her eyes widened.  “I didn’t mean . . . .”

 

“No, you didn’t.  But I promised that I would make sure you didn’t come to harm tonight.”  He held one hand out to her.  “So you won’t drink alone.”

 

Aravae looked at his hand, then up at him.  His face was flushed with the alcohol he’d already had, the flicking light in the tavern turning his hair into burnished gold.  She wondered in that moment how different things would be now if she’d pressed harder to get past his busy schedule instead of . . . .  She shook her head slightly and put her hand in his.  “All right, if you’re going to insist.”

 

He laughed as she stood up and tried to take her hand back.  He didn’t release her, but instead slipped his hand up her arm so that he was supporting her as they walked out of the tavern.

 

“I can walk on my own, you know,” she said.

 

“Normally.  But you don’t drink often, if you trip up the stairs and get a black eye, everyone will want to know what happened.”  She huffed a bit, but didn’t pull away.  She could feel the warmth of his hand on her arm, and it was comforting as well as stabilizing.

 

They got outside, and the air helped as well, the coolness driving some of the fuzziness from her head.  Her eyes slanted to look at Cullen as they walked.  The sun had started to set outside, turning the air around them into dazzling cascades of light.  His face was so serious so much of the time, but there was something different now.  The lines of his face seemed softer, and there was an expression in his eyes she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

 

She was glad for his help when they got to the stairs, despite her protestations that she would be fine.  Aravae almost fell twice going up to get into the keep, and once more on the stairs up to her room.  If Cullen hadn’t been with her, she probably would have wound up with bruises at least.

 

He went to the desk on the opposite side of the room from the stairs, pulling the bottle out of his coat as she made her unsteady way to the bed and half-fell onto it.  “I don’t understand,” she said, “why you’re going through this trouble.”

 

He turned to the bed with two glasses each with a finger’s worth of the spirit in them.  “Well,” he said, heading to sit beside her.  “A few reasons.  I wouldn’t let a soldier who’s been acting the way you have go around for this long.  I shouldn’t do any less for you.”  He took a sip of the drink.  “I also wouldn’t let a friend walk around with that much hurt inside if I could help – I’m a soldier, not a monster, after all.”

 

There was a pause.  “And I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

 

Aravae took a slow, small sip of her drink.  “I wouldn’t have.”  She didn’t think she would have, at least.

 

“Just the same.  I’ve seen far too many heartbroken men and women do something they wished they hadn’t, just to spite someone else.”

 

The color rising in her face had little to do with the alcohol and everything to do with a mix of anger and embarrassment.  “Creators, does everyone know my business?  Before long, I’ll have a letter from Queen Anora asking if I need a girls’ night out!”

 

Cullen smiled slightly.  “Hardly.  We’ve noticed you were out of sorts, but we work with you every day.”  There was a hesitation, and she waited him out.  “And someone mentioned to me that you were taking things very hard, and that perhaps my presence would be helpful.”

 

“Who?”

 

He coughed.  “I’d prefer not to say.”

 

She narrowed her eyes, having a suspicion about who it might have been.  Instead of responding, she threw back the rest of the drink.  “I don’t know what there is to say, frankly.  It happened, it’s over.  It shouldn’t still bother me.”

 

His fingers plucked the glass from her hand.  “It can bother you.  But you can’t let it define you.”

 

Aravae scoffed.  “I won’t let it, of course.”

 

“You were on your way to doing something you’d regret tonight because of it.”

 

“With Bull?”  She was startled.  “I doubt . . . he and Dorian are together, so . . . .”

 

One eyebrow quirked.  “Do you think that he wouldn’t have taken you up on an offer?  He’s not made of stone, Aravae.”

 

Her mouth was open to retort, then she paused.  “. . . I don’t know that you’ve ever said my name before.”

 

“We’ve worked together for several months now.  Did you think I didn’t know it?” there was a smirk on his face, and she felt her cheeks reddening again – why was she blushing so much tonight?

 

“It’s not that.  I . . . that’s not the point.”  Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.  “So what you’re saying is that I wouldn’t do something I’d regret with you?” Maybe if she could give him back some of the awkwardness she’d acquired, she’d feel less off balance.

 

He just looked at her for a moment, that damned smirk lurking at the corner of his mouth and making her keenly aware of how close they were sitting.  “That’s what I’m saying, yes.”

 

“. . . oh.”  Aravae’s tongue flicked out to wet her lips.  She hadn’t expected that answer, and she certainly hadn’t expected to feel butterflies in her stomach from the idea.  And he was so close, she could smell the scents coming from him – warm leather, sharp sweat, and whatever cologne he used, something spicy and clean.  She wanted to bury her nose in his chest.

 

Cullen reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.  “But you’ve been drinking, and I certainly wouldn’t want to make myself a liar by taking advantage of that.”  His hand drew back, and she missed the contact.  “So.  I’m going to tuck you into bed, Aravae, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.  Or when you’re ready.”

 

Her mouth dropped open.  “I . . . what?”

 

He stood up, reaching over to set the empty glasses on the nightstand.  “I’m going to tuck you into bed, since you won’t be able to do it on your own-“

 

“I can so!”

 

“I’m not sure you can.  Have you noticed how many buttons you wear on a daily basis?” his voice was dryly amused.  “You’re wearing something under those, I’m certain.  It’s not indecent.”  Cullen smiled then, clearly amused at her.  “So you’ll get tucked in, I’ll go back to my reports, and tomorrow, or whenever you want to, we’ll talk about putting you back together again.”

 

Aravae’s mind wasn’t working the way she wanted it to.  “I . . . we can . . . what?”  She was confused, and befuddled by the implications of what he’d said that she barely noticed that his fingers were working, quick and sure, down the row of small metal buttons that ran from her throat to her stomach until the overshirt was open.

 

She didn’t clutch at the open edges of her clothes, just stared as he knelt down on one knee and started to unlace her boots and slide them off.  “Cullen . . . .”

 

The second boot slipped off and he stood up, moving confidently around the bed to pull back the covers.  “Stand up, then slide in.”

 

Without thinking, she stood and shrugged out of her overshirt, leaving her in her breeches and a thin camisole.  He flipped back the rest of the sheets and blanket, then plumped her pillow.  “You . . . why?”

 

“We’ll talk about it later.”  He gestured at the bed.  “Sleep now.”

 

She bit her lip as she climbed into the bed.  He pulled the covers up, but she reached out and caught his hand.  “If . . . I wouldn’t ask for anything more, but would you . . . stay?”  She looked up at him through her lashes.  “Just until I fall asleep?”

 

One eyebrow went up.  “You can’t be scared.”

 

“Lonely.”  Aravae pulled the covers up to her chest, blushing.  “And . . . I wouldn’t normally ask, but you’ve been so concerned, and . . . you don’t have to.”

 

He shook his head ruefully.  “I can stay a bit.”  Cullen kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed over the covers.  “I’m not made of stone either.”  He rolled over to face her.  “Now, did you just want me to stay, or did you really want cuddles?”

 

She thought for a moment, pushing through the drink clouding her mind.  “Ummm . . . .”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”  She could hear his amusement as he shifted closer to where she lay.  “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”  One arm slipped across her waist, and she looked over to see him propped up on his other elbow, watching her.  Her heart began to flutter.

 

“Cullen . . . .”  She looked up into his brown eyes, seeing something she wasn’t sure how to read.  “You didn’t have to . . . do all of this, tonight.”

 

Aravae felt his fingers flex against her stomach even through the sheet.  “Shhh.  Close your eyes and sleep.”  Her eyes closed, and she heard him sigh again.  “I didn’t have to, but how could I not have helped when you were hurting?”

 

She slept well for the first time in weeks.  When she woke up, all she knew was that her rest had been deep, and that, judging by the wetness between her legs, her dreams hadn’t all been wholesome.  Her head ached a bit, and it seemed very bright in her room this morning, so it took a few moments to process what she was seeing.

 

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Aravae looked around.  Her boots weren’t where she normally put them.  Her overshirt was on the floor at the side of the bed, and there was an almost-empty bottle of liquor on the desk.  Well.  That hadn’t been a dream, then.

 

A blush spread up her neck again as she started to gather up the things she would need for the day.  She’d been so careless, so foolish, because of how she had felt over the end of things with Solas.  It had been a good thing, a very good thing, that Cullen hadn’t been inclined to take advantage of her, or let anyone else do so.  And it was so embarrassing that she’d needed that protection.

 

Her hands paused in the middle of putting on the jacket she wanted to wear.  She’d have to apologize, and thank him, for the trouble he’d gone through.  There was no conversation she wanted to have less at this point.  There was nothing for it, though, and she needed to talk with him about Samson anyway.  That would be a good pretense for it.

 

The walk through the keep seemed short, but it was long enough for Leliana to catch up with her.  “Good morning, Inquisitor.  I trust you slept well.”

 

There were implications in the red-haired woman’s voice, and Aravae twitched an eyebrow.  “I slept well, yes.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Why the concern?”

 

“You’ve been out of sorts lately,” Leliana said blandly.  “While understandable, we’ve been . . . worried.  Even if nothing happened, I’m glad.  A good night’s sleep helps the world.”

 

Aravae sighed.  “Everyone knows, don’t they?”

 

Tucking both hands behind her back, Leiliana said, “Which part?”

 

“What?”

 

Without looking, Leliana answered in her soft accent, “That you are heartbroken over Solas, or that the Commander escorted you to your quarters last night, and did not leave until the small hours of the morning?”

 

Her steps stuttered, and she blinked.  “I . . . either?”

 

“Plenty of people have guessed the first,” the spymaster said casually.  “You have been avoiding him, and anyone who has been in the same situation can guess.  The second . . . not many.  Myself, likely Vivienne, if she was awake.  Iron Bull.  Josephine will know as soon as we have our first briefing.”  A ghost of a smile played over her lips.  “Cole may not know yet, but he will as soon as he sees you, if you’re thinking about it.”

 

Aravae coughed, her face bright red – did it sting less than yesterday?  “I . . . nothing happened.  I was drowning in pity, and the Commander made sure I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself.  That’s all.”

 

“Of course.”  Aravae glanced at the other woman from the corner of her eyes, but Leliana’s face was shadowed by the cowl she wore.  “Rest assured, Inquisitor, no one will hear of it from me, regardless.” 

She waved with one hand as she turned to head towards the stairway to the third floor.  “Have a good day, Inquisitor.”

 

The elf stood, stunned, in the middle of the great hall.  This place was impossible!  She huffed out a breath and turned to take the fastest way to Cullen’s office, then stopped again.  The fastest way from where she was took her through the round room Solas had claimed for his own.  Did she want to risk facing him?

 

She shook herself.  Was she a grown elf, or a child?  Shoulders back, jaw set, she marched towards the door she was facing.  Her mental preparation was for nothing, however, as the room was empty when she walked through it.  Aravae paused for a moment, taking in the new mural he’d completed – clearly related to Samson and the Temple of Mythal.  Then, she moved forward again, heading for the door and leaving the past behind.

 

Cullen wasn’t alone when she got into his office, but the guard there saw who was coming in and left quickly.  There was a moment of silence that she was fairly sure was only awkward for her before she said, “Commander, I . . . wanted to thank you.  For watching over me last night.”  Her eyes traveled over the assortment of items on his desk, trying to avoid eye contact.  “I might have made a mess of things otherwise.”

 

There was clear amusement in his voice when he spoke.  “I didn’t think you’d admit it, frankly.  Last night you were very clear that nothing would have happened.”  She heard the sound of him moving, the distinctive noise that armor and cloth made together.  “But you are welcome, Inquisitor.”

 

That was done.  “So, about Samson . . . .”

 

He was leaning against the desk, hands braced on the surface of it.  “I know what to do with Samson, I think.  Unless there was specific intelligence you wanted, we can talk about something else.”

 

“No, I trust your judgement on that.”  He was smirking again, that slight curve of his lips that seemed to make her lose her train of thought.  “I vaguely remember you saying there was something else you wanted to talk about.  Last, um, night.”  She hated how timid she sounded about it, but she couldn’t really recall what it had been.

 

His arms crossed over his chest.  “I had, yes.”  Aravae’s eyes flicked up to his face, and felt an electric tingle up her spine.  “I know it may be too soon, but at one time, you indicated a level of interest . . . .”

 

The blush was creeping its way up her neck again and spreading over her face.  “I . . . had.”

 

The way he was looking at her was making her knees feel weak.  He pushed himself away from the desk and took a few steps closer to her, within arms’ reach now.  “I wouldn’t want to push you into something before you were ready, but given the events of last night, you may be ready to move on.”

 

Aravae licked her lips.  “You are . . . correct.”  She looked up at him, eyes traveling over his face.  “Commander, are you . . . ?”

 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I,” one of his hands went to brush a stray bit of hair from her face, “did something impetuous.”

 

Speechless, she started to shake her head.  But before the motion could be fully complete, he leaned forward and claimed her mouth, gentle at first, but quickly deepening.  She let out a delighted whimper as his tongue pressed into her mouth, sliding over her own, dominating the kiss in a way she felt all the way down to her toes.

 

His hand had been cradling her face, but slid back to tangle in her hair.  His other hand slipped around her waist, and she gasped into his mouth as he tugged her against him.  She could feel every line of his armor through her clothes, the cold hardness of it uncomfortable but in the most delicious way she had ever imagined.

 

The kiss broke, and Aravae stood for a moment, eyes closed and lips swollen, processing what had happened.  Her eyes flickered open, looking up at Cullen her mouth slightly open and face flushed.

 

He looked back at her, his own eyes hooded with a desire she realized wasn’t new.  She hadn’t noticed before now – or he’d kept it well hidden.  His own lips were plump from their kiss, and her eyes traced over them, skipping slightly when they met the scar over part of his mouth.  Her eyes flicked up to his, and without speaking, she pressed herself up on her toes, arms going around his neck and pulling him down into another kiss, desperate and wanting.

 

His hands on her were moving, sliding over her body through her clothes, still leaving what felt like fire in their wake.  They settled on her ass, tugging her hips tight against his as Cullen took over the kiss again, dominating and confident.  Aravae moaned softly at the feel of his growing hardness against her – she was doing that, making the most controlled man she’d ever met harden against his trousers.

 

In a move that she would later marvel at, one of Cullen’s feet tapped her own apart, then pressed his thigh between her legs.  Her breath hitched, the firm pressure against her core making the wet warmth that had started there grow.

 

Every shift in posture he made shifted the broad muscle against her, and she found herself shifting her hips to get more contact, feeling his fingers grip into her ass more firmly.

 

He pulled back slightly, his eyes almost like a wild animal’s.  They were both breathing heavily, and Aravae’s tongue slipped out again, tasting him on her lips.  She could see the effort he was making for control, the struggle to think instead of feel.  A part of her didn’t want that.  A part of her wanted to see where that feeling would go.

 

Cullen cleared his throat, taking a small step back.  “Ah, Maker.”  He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, giving her a small smile.  “I shouldn’t admit how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

 

She leaned one hip against the desk.  “I didn’t know how much I’d wanted that,” she said candidly.  Her cheeks were flushed, and she could tell her hair wasn’t tidy anymore.  She didn’t really care.  “Cullen, do you really -?”

 

He laughed, shifting to half-sit on the desk facing her.  “Really want you?  Or really want to stop?  The answer to both should be obvious.”

 

“Well, yes, but . . . then why stop?”

 

The smile broadened a bit.  “Three unlocked doors.  If you don’t mind the risk – high, mind you – of having someone walk in on us while I’ve got you bent over my desk,” the fire in his eyes at that told her that she wasn’t the only one weighing the risk on that now, “we can keep going.”

 

She chewed lightly on her lower lip.  “I understand.  So . . . when . . . ?”

 

He leaned forward, resting his hand against her cheek again.  “Come here tonight.”  Aravae nodded, and he smiled.  It made her heart feel warm in all sorts of ways.  His hand shifted, fingers resting under her chin.  “But you should know something, before you arrive.  I don’t just want you for a night, or just for you to ease your broken heart.”  The expression in his eyes made her want to duck her head, avoid the depth of emotion there, but his hand wouldn’t let her.  “I want _you_ , Aravae, all of you.”

 

Her fingers fidgeted at her waist for a moment.  “What if I can’t?”  She thought it might be easy, giving her heart to him.  But it had been easy to give it away before, the rational part of her mind inserted, and look how that had turned out.

 

Cullen’s gaze was firm, and his voice was full of regret.  “Then we’ll both spend a very lonely, very frustrated evening apart.  I won’t accept less than all of you, and in return, you’ll get all of me.”  He looked straight at her.  “I’m not a good bargain, I know that much, but I’ll never break your heart.”

 

There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that, and so she nodded.  He ran his thumb over her lips quickly, then took his hand away.  “All right.  Now, go.  We both have other things to do before tonight, whatever else happens.”

 

Aravae licked her lips.  “Yes.  I think . . .” she shook her head to clear it.  “I think Josephine said something about a Duchess, or something.”  Her eyes were still slightly distant, and she looked at him for a long moment, a small smile curving her lips.  “Have a good day, Commander.”

 

There _was_ a Duchess waiting to speak with her, but thankfully the meeting was short.  As she was leaving, she ran into Vivienne, who pressed a parcel into her hands with directions to “open immediately, as soon as you’re alone, my dear” and swanned off to a consultation with one of the senior enchanters who’d recently joined them.

 

The parcel, upon opening, contained a note in Vivienne’s hand stating that she’d been waiting for the opportune time to deliver this gift from Ladies Fleur, Couteau, and Colombe, sent after their meeting at the Winter Palace, and to use it well.  Under the note were several flimsy bits of cloth that she puzzled over for a moment before realizing that it was the most scanty set of lingerie she’d ever personally seen and flushing brilliantly.  Misty grey silk so thin it was almost transparent, covered in silver embroidery of opening flowers, the bottoms tying at the waist with silk ribbons and the top tying behind the back and around the neck similarly.

 

Hurriedly, she folded the items again and rewrapped them, heading towards her quarters to, she told herself, stow them somewhere.  But in transit, she found herself slowing, considering.  In the end, she left the items sitting on her bed, still wrapped.  Just in case.

 

The rest of the day was a blur, mostly because her mind was elsewhere.  She knew she was distracted, thinking about whether or not she was willing to make the kind of commitment he wanted.  If it had been strictly physical, she would have had an easier time agreeing, but likely felt bad about it later.  This was more complicated.

 

After dinner, however, she went up to her room and spotted the parcel on her bed.  Aravae’s lower lip caught in her teeth.  Then she huffed out a breath and started to take off the clothes from her day before going to the washbasin on her desk and scrubbing her face, hands, and feet clean.  Then she marched to the bed and took out the pieces from the package one by one.  Her hands were shaking a bit, but they were steady enough to tie the ribbons around herself.

 

Feeling awkward with the whisper of silk against her skin, she went to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the dresses that Josephine kept trying to get her to wear more often, in lightweight green linen, buttoning it up over the delicate garments.  She didn’t look like she was on her way to . . . do something illicit, which was the point.  Though anyone who knew her would question the choice of clothing, so unlike her.

 

But then, this was out of her normal character too, so maybe that didn’t matter so much.

 

A pair of soft-soled slippers on her feet, the belt with her knives on it at her waist, and she headed for the stairs, pleased with the softness of her footfalls.  She was so distracted by the unusual feeling of the clothes she was wearing and the thought of what might happen that she didn’t even notice that she’d gone through Solas’s room until she was mostly through it.  Or that he was sitting at his desk until he spoke.

 

“Good evening, _da’len_.”

 

She stopped, spun on the ball of her foot, hands going to the hilts of her daggers instinctively before she realized it was him, not an enemy.  “Ah.  Good evening, Solas.  I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

 

He stood, capping the inkwell he’d been using.  “It is no trouble.  I understand that this room is the easiest way from the Keep to the Commander’s office, if someone needs to speak with him.”  Hands clasped behind his back, he took a few steps toward her, stopping at a conversational distance.  “Or is that not where you are going?  That is not your normal business dress.”

 

Her lips pursed.  “I am going to Commander Cullen’s office, yes.”  She folded her arms across her chest, the slightly belled sleeves of the dress dangling down below her breasts.  “And it is not, perhaps I felt like trying something different than the same old thing.”

 

Inclining his head, he gave her a small, sad smile.  “Of course.  Forgive me, I forgot.”  He stepped back and his gaze moved from her face to the bare wall behind her.  “Perhaps I will work on another mural this evening.  Be careful when you come back, _da’len_ , that you do not get paint on your lovely dress.”

 

“I won’t be coming back,” she said bluntly, regretting it almost as soon as she said it.  “Since you’ll be painting, I’ll take the longer way through the main hall,” Aravae tried to make it sound less like she’d meant it to be in a moment of irritation.  “And please stop calling me that – I’m not a child, as you well know.”  He’d better know it, given . . . well.

 

The smile on his face quirked, turning a bit wry.  “I do know.  Again, forgive old habits, Aravae.  I will attempt to do better in the future.”  He turned to the scaffolding along the wall.  “Enjoy your evening.”

 

She hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should say something else.  After a moment, she turned again.  “You as well, Solas.”  It wasn’t reasonable to act childish – especially when she’s just made a point of saying she wasn’t.  The door opened and closed behind her silently, and she took a deep breath of the evening air.

 

Skyhold was quiet, the sound of carousing from the tavern and the clinking of the armor from the training ground the only sounds breaking the stillness.  Aravae made her way across the battlement, stilling her hands by clasping them together at her waist.  That didn’t do a thing for the fluttering in her stomach, but at least she didn’t look like she was nervous.

 

Then the door to Cullen’s office was in front of her, and she paused, hand raised to tap on the door.  Should she knock?  That seemed silly.  Instead, she opened the door without knocking, slipping inside and closing it behind her.  When she turned around, she found Cullen even in the dim light because of the way his breastplate gleamed.

 

He wasn’t looking up yet, eyes scanning a report on his desk, tapping idly on the edge of his desk with the fingers of one hand.  “I’ll be right with you, I just . . . .”  He glanced up then, and stopped.  “Ah, Inquisitor.”

 

She smiled and stepped away from the door.  “If you have something that needs finished, I can wait.”  Just seeing him, the lantern light turning his golden hair red and casting shadows over the planes of his face, she wasn’t sure how she’d manage to wait.  All she wanted to do was throw herself at him.

 

“Oh, I’m sure you can, but it isn’t necessary.”  He set the report aside and stood up.  “I couldn’t pay attention to it anyway.”  He stripped off his gloves, dropping them on the desk as he moved to stand in front of it.  “I wasn’t certain you’d come.”

 

“Neither was I.”  She stopped in front of him, fingers working together.  “But I . . . I didn’t want to regret not taking this chance.”  The smallest smile passed over her lips.  “Besides, you said I’d never do something I’d regret with you.”

 

He laughed, and it made her feel warm down to her toes.  “So I did.  And I keep my promises.”  He moved forward with a speed that stunned her – she hadn’t thought he could move that quickly in the armor he wore – and crashed into her, wrapping her in a desperate embrace.  His mouth met hers hungrily, tongue slipping between her lips, greedily tangling with hers.  There was a moment as she processed the feeling, his mouth on hers, the hardness of his armor against her, before she responded eagerly.

 

Her head was so muddled with the feel, the taste, the scent of him, that she didn’t notice they were moving backwards until her back thumped against the door.  One of his hands moved from the small of her back, and she felt more than heard the lock click into place.  The dress she wore was thick enough to dull the hard edges of his armor, to keep it from being painful, but the coolness of it pressing against her breasts made her nipples harden against the silken underthings she was wearing.

 

Aravae whimpered into his mouth, pushing herself against him as well as she could.  She pressed her hips forward, and both of them gasped as her abdomen found that swelling hardness.  His head pulled back slightly, looking down at her with hot, hungry eyes.  “Cullen,” she breathed, “please.”

 

A wicked smile bloomed over his lips, and he shifted his hands again, down her back and ass to her thighs, coaxing her to wrap her legs around him.  “Please?” he teased, nipping her lower lip as he settled her against him, arms supporting her as her ankles crossed behind his back.  “Please what?”

 

They were moving again, and he didn’t give her the chance to answer before he was kissing her again, lips muffling her moan, the sighing, soft gasps as he walked her over to the other door, pressing her against it again as he turned the lock.

 

She leaned back to catch her breath, feeling the strength of him as she looked up at him.  “Please, don’t let me go.”

 

His lips nuzzled at her neck then, and she felt the sensation of him walking again, the press and release of his still-restrained cock against her center, the flex of his thighs and ass against her legs.  She thought she might go crazy from it, and they were both still dressed.  “I’ll have to,” he whispered, locking the last door.  “We can’t get up the ladder like this.”

 

It took her a long moment to understand what he was saying.  His bed was up there.  Of course.  Her fingers clutched at his shoulders.  “The desk?”

 

He groaned, fingers tightening against her ass.  “Much as I would love that – and believe me, I plan on it in the near future – our first time together should be in a bed.”

 

Aravae licked her lips.  “I imagine we’ll both be too tired to climb afterward, regardless,” she agreed reluctantly.

 

Cullen kissed her again, lighter, more gently, and let her drop her legs from his waist.  “Go on upstairs, Inquisitor.  I’ll blow out the light and meet you.”

 

Before she headed to the ladder, she pressed her lips to his again, hard and fierce.  Then she pulled back, heading to the base of the ladder and starting to climb up it.  She could feel his eyes on her as she went up, and looked over her shoulder to wink at him.  Cullen grinned at her and moved to where the lone light burned.  Aravae paused for a moment in her climb, startled at how strongly the sight of him brightly illuminated hit her.  It was like a punch to the stomach, how bright and warm and golden he looked.

 

Then she realized she had frozen her assent, and shook her head lightly before starting to climb again.  “Was something wrong?” he asked from behind her.

 

“No,” she said, hands reaching the top of the ladder.  “Just thought of something.”

 

She would have stumbled around his living area if not for the moonlight shining in from the high window and the broken-edged hole on the far side of the ceiling.  But she was able to navigate the space with ease to light the stub of candle that was sitting next to the bed.

 

She heard him climbing the ladder as she set the candle back down and started to unbutton her dress.  Aravae turned to face him, illuminated on one side by the warm light of the candle and on the other by the crisp light of the moon.  It was his turn to pause now, frozen, visible from the waist up over the edge of the floor.  “Maker’s breath,” he breathed, looking at her with such open admiration that she could feel herself blushing.  Cullen lifted himself the rest of the way up, striding towards her.  “I never thought I would see you here,” he said, reaching out to pull her close.  He looked down at her, one hand brushing her hair from her face before trailing down her cheek.

 

Aravae licked her lips as she looked back, her own hands resting lightly on his shoulders.  “I don’t know what to say to that.  I’m glad . . . I’m glad.”  She shivered as his fingers found the bare skin below her throat where her dress had opened already.

 

“I hadn’t said so before,” he murmured, tracing the line of warm skin until his hand was halted by the next button in line, “but you look lovely in this.”  Cullen’s fingers began to work at the fastener, popping the button from its hole.  “I imagine that you’ll look just as lovely out of it, of course.”

 

“Do you?” she whispered as his fingers brushed the skin underneath.

 

A ghost of a smile played over his lips.  “I may have.”  He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and she gasped, the fingers on his shoulders gripping more tightly at the feeling of his mouth, demanding and hot, on the spot where her neck and shoulder joined.  His fingers kept working their way down the buttons of her dress, slipping each one free and moving down between her breasts towards her stomach.

 

He paused for a moment, lifting his face to look at her.  “What have we here?” he murmured, fingers slipping inside the now-open gap in the dress to glide over the ribbon.  “Inquisitor, what are you wearing under this modest, sensible dress?”

 

She could feel her cheeks flushing, and looked down to where his hand was touching her.  “It was a gift.”

 

His hand slipped up to her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his.  “A gift.”  Cullen’s lips quirked.  “For which of us?  And that wasn’t an answer.” 

 

She couldn’t find words, in part because she wasn’t sure of the answer to part of the question.  The rest of it was that she wasn’t sure how to describe it.  “It . . . you should see for yourself.”

 

The low, warm rumble of his laugh made her skin tingle.  “I hope you’ll forgive my impatience, then.”  His hands moved, brushing lightly over the skin exposed by her partially open dress.

 

“What do you . . . oh!”  She found out what he meant as his fingers tensed, muscles flexed, and pulled open her dress by force.  Half the buttons that had still been fastened stayed on, more or less.  The rest of the small brass rounds flew gods-knew-where, tinny clatters that faded into the corners and under the bed.

 

His hands tugged the dress back and down her arms, exposing her body with the green of the dress as a backdrop.  Cullen rested his hands on her bare waist, holding her barely inside arm’s length to look at her admiringly.  “Remind me to write a thank you to whoever gave this to you,” he murmured, eyes traveling over her body, tracing over the pale material hiding her breasts and sex from sight so intently it felt like a physical touch.

 

The dim light had turned the silk into what looked like mist set with stars shrouding her breasts and sex without doing anything to hide the signs of her arousal.  “I hadn’t thought you’d respond so strongly,” she admitted, letting the dress fall from her arms.

 

Cullen ghosted his hands up her body to lightly brush the undersides of her breasts.  “I confess, if you had described this to me, I would have been doubtful.”  His thumbs slipped up and over the body-warmed silk, testing the texture of the embroidery.  “But seeing you like this, I can’t imagine reacting any other way.”

 

Aravae put her hand on his bicep, feeling the strength there.  “Commander, you have me at a disadvantage,” she teased.  “I’m wearing nothing but three scraps of fabric and some ribbon, while you’re still in full armor.”

 

“Nonsense,” he cupped her breasts fully for a moment before stepping back slightly and starting to strip off his coat.  “I left my gloves downstairs.”

 

She laughed, watching with interest and no small amount of lust as he undressed.  His hands were quick, with no wasted motion, as he undid the maroon wrap that went over his breastplate and started on the metal protector itself.  “Do you need help?”

 

He gave her a look.  “Perhaps some other time, but no, thank you.”  A wry smile passed over his face.  “Did you think I slept in this every night?” he asked as the leather straps came free, letting the steel chestpiece slide off.  He held it in one hand, as easily as she would hold a book or a knife, then reached out to set it on the floor.  Piece after piece of the actual armor followed in quick succession, until he was standing before her in a thin linen tunic, breeches, and boots.

 

“I confess, I never thought about the process of removing it.”  She licked her lips.  “I did think about the end result, however.”

 

He stepped forward again, touching her hips lightly for a moment before pulling her close.  They both let out an involuntary moan at the press of their bodies together, the first time they’d really been able to feel each other this way.  “I hope I meet expectations,” he whispered, kissing her again.  Her hands slid up his arms, feeling the muscles there flex as his hands shifted their positions, one at the small of her back and the other to cradle her head.

 

Their tongues tangled and writhed together, and her fingers slipped up to tangle in his hair.  She could feel the warmth, the firmness of his body against hers, fitting marvelously together.  Just that feeling was as intoxicating as the taste of his mouth against hers.  She could feel his hardness pressing against her stomach, and pressed herself against it.  The gasp he made broke their kiss, and Cullen looked at her with eyes almost feral with hunger.

 

Aravae felt the hand behind her head shift, and the knots holding the sheer covering of her breasts in place coming undone.  The hand trailed down, untying the second set of knots, and she slipped one of her own hands from his shoulder and caught the gossamer fabric.  With one smooth motion, she grabbed the joining piece of ribbon and threw it aside, landing on the pile of armor.

 

Her fingers fumbled for the bottom of his tunic, catching it and tugging it upward.  She let the linen garment hang from her hand as she traced over his chest, the old, healed scars and the light, downy hair.  It was only for a moment before he pulled her into another embrace, and she made a soft, eager sound at the gentle friction of his skin and chest hair against her sensitive nipples.  He turned them around, tugging her gently backward and sitting down on the bed.

 

His hands guided her to sit on his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, running up her sides and brushing over her breasts before he leaned forward.  Aravae moaned as his lips surrounded one of her erect nipples, the warm wetness sending chills up her spine.  His teeth grazed over the sensitive nub, and she shivered.  “Cullen, mmm, your mouth . . . .”

 

Pulling his mouth away with a lewd slurping sound, he smirked at her.  “You haven’t seen the half of what it can do.”  And then he enveloped her other nipple, massaging both of her breasts as he teased and tasted her.  Her fingers were in his hair, cradling and encouraging, as she groaned her pleasure at what his mouth was doing.  And every time she shifted, she could feel that wonderful hardness between them, pressing insistently against her core.

 

“Cullen, please,” she whispered, her hips rolling forward and making his hands tighten around her breasts.  “Feels so good, but I want . . . I want more.”

 

He laughed softly.  “Greedy.”  But his hands slipped down her sides, gripping her ass before untying the ribbons holding the barely-present smalls on her.  Placing one hand in the center of her back, Cullen leaned back, lying down on the bed slowly and pulling her along with him.

 

They were pressed together again, the slight rough texture of the hair on his chest tickling and teasing her peaked nipples.  She pressed her lips to his as they moved, which muffled her squeal as he wrapped her more tightly in his arms and rolled them over on the bed.

 

Aravae’s hands trailed down his body until they reached the waist of his breeches, fingers trailing over the skin there, feeling the firm muscle and smooth skin and the almost slick texture of the trailing ends of scars.  They traveled around the front, fumbling blindly at the laces there while his mouth roamed over her throat.  When she finally loosened the laces, her hand slipping inside, he gasped, teeth gripping lightly where her neck and shoulder joined.

 

Cullen pulled his mouth back and straightened up a bit, looming over her.  Aravae looked up at him, greedy eyes taking in every inch of his body, as he slowly tugged down the snug breeches and, she realized, his smalls with them.  Her breath caught at the sight of him bare now, for the second that it took for him to finish stripping and lean back over her again.  It felt like a heated iron rod against her thigh as he stretched over her, and Aravae shifted her hips, trying to get his shaft lined up with her entrance.

 

He slipped his hands up her sides and arms, guiding her arms up and over her head on the bed, pinning them there with one hand.  “Hold still,” he growled, using his free hand to hold her hips still.  “I’m going to take my time, and you will enjoy every second of it.”  Nipping Aravae’s earlobe gently, he squeezed her hip.

 

She stilled, looking up at him, pleading and hungry, wanting.  “Cullen,” she whimpered.  “Please . . . it’s been so long, we’ve waited . . . too long.”

 

There was a moment where she was sure he was going to make her wait even longer, tease her more, just because she’d asked.  But then he chuckled into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, and purred, “When you ask like that, how can I say no?”  His hand on her hip shifted, making sure that the head of his shaft was pressing just so against her entrance.  Her sudden intake of breath was covered by his low, needy moan.

 

Aravae’s fingers tensed and relaxed uselessly, trying so hard to keep her hips still now that it was just there, he was right there and . . . .  Her fingers tightened into fists, her mouth opening in a silent cry as his hips rocked forward, spreading her, filling her.

 

The sensation was enough that she barely registered his whispered, pleasure-soaked words breathed into her ear.  She shifted, instinctively seeking more, and groaned at the feeling as more of him slipped inside – it surprised and thrilled her that there was more, she hadn’t expected his length, how deep he already felt and there was more -!

 

Slowly, Cullen drew his hips back slightly, then rocked forward again.  A ragged breath slipped from his lips as he pushed into her slick heat, and Aravae let out a sound she could barely process as coming from her own mouth.  But he was fully inside now, she could feel his hips against her, rubbing just-so against her clit, could feel his balls against her, brushing teasingly against her.

 

She bit her lower lip, her muscles shifting just enough to remind her how long it had been since she’d been with someone, and wrapped one leg around his hips.  “So big,” she breathed into his ear, “I can feel . . . feel you stretching me open.”

 

His head turned slightly, teeth grazing over the skin where neck and shoulder joined.  “You feel so good,” his breath felt cool across skin hot with arousal, “I can’t tell you how often,” he pulled back again, and she could feel his breathing hitch, “often I imagined this . . . dreamed about it.”

 

The thought of what he might have been doing while he was imagining it made her clench around him, the mental image of him stroking himself while groaning her name almost too much for her.  “Cullen, please,” she moaned again, “please, harder.”

 

The answering sound he made would have brought her to her knees if she’d have been standing.  Instead, she thrust her hips up towards his, hilting him again in her heat.  The force of his thrusts was rocking them both on the bed, and it wasn’t until she realized she was clinging to him with her arms as well that she realized he’d let go of her wrists to brace himself on the bed.  She could feel her climax building, the feel of their bodies moving together, the sweet friction of their rhythm driving her closer and closer to . . . fingers clenching, digging into the firm muscle of his back, body trembling, clutching at his hardness, wetness overflowing as he pounded into her, mouth open in a cry of pleasure so primal it could have been an animal.

 

The world was swimming still when she felt his motion stuttering, and looked at him, still half-dazed with the pleasure he’d given.  “Aravae . . . Maker, I . . . where . . . ?”

 

She couldn’t voice a response, just tightened her legs around him as she reached up and kissed him, hard and deep.  Aravae felt the shuddering groan against her lips a split second before she felt him tense and swell, and then release.  She could feel the heat of it pooling inside of her, and her hands stroked his back, wordless sounds of pleasure and affection spilling from her lips.

 

Spent, he almost sagged over her.  She could feel the tension leeching from his muscles, his breath still coming in pants against her neck.  “Cullen,” she murmured, “Cullen, that was . . . amazing.”  Aravae pressed a kiss to his chest, feeling him shifting inside of her.  “You’re amazing.”

 

He laughed breathlessly, and moved, groaning as his softening cock slipped out of her.  “I was thinking the same thing about you.”  They were next to each other now, and she turned onto her side to face him, the sensation of his seed shifting, starting to ooze from her.  One of his arms curled around her, pressing her close to him.

 

“Mmm.”  Aravae ran a hand idly up and down his chest.  “I feel quite unmotivated to move.  It’s good that we didn’t take advantage of your desk.”

 

Cullen grinned at her.  “Give me about, say, fifteen minutes, and we can see how it feels down there.”  His hand slipped up and down her side, brushing lightly over her modest curves.  “Maybe less.”


End file.
